


You Love Me!

by redcandle17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 00:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1724828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcandle17/pseuds/redcandle17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bronn and Sansa come to believe each is in love with the other. Crack!fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Love Me!

He was cleverer than most, but the Imp was still a fool. Here Bronn was, stuck spying on a whore when his time would be better spent training new guardsmen. He'd been watching Shae for three days now and he'd seen no sign that she had a lover. He wasn't surprised. Shae was a professional, like him. She'd sold her services to one client and she wouldn't betray the dwarf until someone else offered her more coin.

Bronn finished eating his apple and tossed the core on the floor. Shae was still in the master bedchamber, helping Sansa Stark with whatever it was ladies needed help with. He found a whetstone and drew his dagger. Might as well get some work done while he waited. 

 

At first Sansa thought her lord husband had set his sellsword captain of the guard to spy on her. But while Bronn spent his days just sitting around their quarters above the Kitchen Keep, there was no trace of him when Sansa made her nightly visit to the godswood. She was puzzled about his behavior until one afternoon when he met her eyes and boldly held her gaze. Sansa found herself blushing, conscious of the tight bodice of her gown. 

Of course. She should have realized it sooner. He was in love with her! He had been a sellsword once, but he'd been knighted for his valor in the battle against Lord Stannis. He was Ser Bronn of the Blackwater now. It only made sense that he would fall in love with her; after all, there were many songs about the unrequited love knights often bore for their lords’ wives.

 

The girl Tyrion had wedded - but not bedded, according to all the gossips - was staring at him. Bronn let his eyes roam over her body before staring right back at her. She was a little young, but a sweet-looking morsel all the same. The dwarf must be mad to obsess over a common camp follower when he was married to such a girl. Or maybe he had no patience for breaking in virgins. Bronn grinned at the thought. 

The Imp's little wife was blushing now and still staring while pretending not to. Bronn wondered whether she wanted him beneath her skirts. He'd had a few older noblewomen let him know that they wanted a good hard fuck - offers he'd not been tempted by when he weighed the pleasure against the risks - but never a young one. It mattered not; short of the Queen, this lady was riskiest of all. Lannister pride was great and Lannister revenge was merciless, and this girl belonged to the Lannisters whether she liked it or not.

 

He was not truly handsome, but his face was pleasing nonetheless and his form was tall and strong. He had not shaved that morning - or, from the looks of it, the morning before - and while Sansa usually found smooth-cheeked men handsomer than bearded ones, she liked the look of the shadow on his cheeks and chin. Although it did make him look quite roguish, like the sort of ungallant knight who would ignore propriety and have his way with a maiden. 

She knew he was common-born, and Sansa found herself wondering how he had come to be a sellsword. Perhaps his father had been a soldier in service to some good lord and he'd died fighting gallantly and his sword had been the only thing Bronn inherited. He must have been quite young, she decided. Perhaps no lord would take such a young boy into honorable service so he'd been forced to make his way in the world, wielding his sword for whoever would give him enough coin to buy food. Maybe he even had a sick mother to take care of. Sansa's heart was touched by his tragic past. 

She decided to give him a chance to talk to her; she was a good listener and she would keep his story of misfortune in the utmost confidence. "It is quite a pleasant day, is it not, Ser Bronn?"

"Aye." 

Only his hands and face were visible and he bore no scars there, else she would have used those to broach the subject of his past by asking how he'd gotten them. Sansa wondered whether he had scars beneath his clothing. Not that it mattered; she would never see them, not unless there was some battle and the maesters were busy with men wounded worse and she had to tend his hurts like the maidens in the songs were often required to do. 

"Your mother must be very proud that you've been knighted." 

"I suppose she would be." 

 

Well, it looked like he had something to report to the Imp after all. Tyrion _was_ being betrayed, but by his wife, not his whore. Or at least she was trying to betray him. On second thought, the dwarf might get rid of _Bronn_ to remove temptation from his wife's way. He decided to keep his mouth shut about it. He had to admit it appealed to his vanity; that Sansa would look to him when the Red Keep was crawling with hundreds of pretty rose knights. 

There was no harm in playing along for a short while. He seized her hand and raised it to his lips. "My lady is kind to ask about my mother." 

She snatched her hand back, her face near as red as her hair. "I...It is my duty to care for my lord husband's sworn men." 

He stroked her cheek. "You are as dutiful as you are beautiful."

She backed away. "Thank you, ser. I must speak with the steward. Pray excuse me." She practically ran from him. 

Bronn laughed. She was not a woman looking for a lover, just a little girl looking for attention. 

"He might not be fucking her, but I doubt he'll like you sticking your cock into her either," said a woman's voice from behind him. 

Bronn turned to look at Shae. "Don't you worry, wench, I know when to keep my breeches laced." 

The whore snorted with derision. "You'd be the first man I met who did." 

 

Margaery smiled at her, and Megga and Elinor and Alla greeted her courteously whenever they saw her in the sept or in the gardens, but Sansa was no longer welcome as part of their circle. They'd been her friends when she was going to wed Willas and become a Tyrell. But now she was wed to Tyrion Lannister and her place was with Queen Cersei. Sansa disliked joining the queen's ladies for needlework and gossip, and Cersei didn't seem to care whether she came or not, so most days she stayed in her own chambers. 

With little else to do, she finished embroidering an altar cloth for the sept in a matter of days instead of the week it would have usually taken. It was raining and she knew the yard would have turned to mud so a walk held little appeal. She wandered the tower restlessly. 

"Bored, Sansa?"

Sansa squeaked. She had not heard Ser Bronn come up the stairs. "A little, ser," she answered, forgiving his discourteous use of her given name. 

"I know a good way to pass the time."

Her heart beat faster. "What way is that?"

"Eating." He held out a small cloth-wrapped bundle to her. "Every meal is a feast for those Tyrells. I charmed one of their cooks and she's been keeping me well fed."

Sansa took the package and unwrapped it, letting out a squeal of delight at the sight of two small lemoncakes. "Thank you, ser. I am most grateful. And pleased you remembered me." She smiled brightly at him. He loved her! She would have let him kiss her then, but instead of moving any closer, he frowned at something he saw behind her and took off abruptly.

Sansa didn't see anything amiss, just her maid Shae bringing up the clean laundry. She forgave Ser Bronn's hasty departure. He'd brought her lemoncakes and that was what mattered. Sansa sighed happily and bit into her treat. 

 

Bronn was beginning to tire of the game. If the girl had not been in love with him before, she certainly was now. He'd been stuffing himself full after fucking the plump-arsed cook senseless and he'd only taken the lemoncakes on a whim. Sansa, however, behaved as though he'd given her diamonds. She smiled and came over to speak with him whenever she saw him, and she'd given him a handkerchief she'd embroidered with his new sigil. On the surface that wasn't much, but it was the way she did it that made Bronn uneasy. 

She always seemed to be waiting for something, and her smile was so bright that Bronn was sure she either had to be dim-witted or dangerous. Most folk in the castle would have said she was a sweet girl but none too smart and laughed at the idea of her being dangerous, but Bronn wasn't so sure anymore. Most people were predictable; that was a fact that had kept him alive and well, rightly guessing which opponent would attack from which side and which employer would likely be on the losing side of a conflict. When it came to Sansa Stark, though, Bronn couldn't begin to guess what went on in her head.

With Tyrion finally satisfied that Shae wasn't fucking anyone but him, Bronn was released from spying on her and able to take up training the new guards again. The first day went well, but the second day he happened to look up after demonstrating the proper way to hold a spear and he saw Sansa standing at the edge of the training yard. Many of the knights and soldiers leered at her openly, but she only stared at _him_.

Bronn looked away and went back to his work. He was shocked hours later when he realized she was still there. He debated whether to ignore her, but eventually some fool who didn't know who she was would try to impress his fellows by trying to get a piece of her, and Bronn would be forced to defend his lord's lady wife. So he spared himself the extra work by going over to her. 

"Ser Bronn." She looked tired from standing in the sun half the day, but she smiled. "I waited all day yesterday for you to come, but you didn't. And then Shae told me you'd be in the yard today."

"Something I can do for you?" Bronn was not in the mood to play at gallantry today.

She blinked at the tone of his voice. "No, ser. I came to watch. It's very reassuring to see such brave warriors. We ladies will surely be safe if Lord Stannis should attack again." 

"If Stannis doesn't bring his sorceress this time and make these _brave_ warriors piss their breeches," he said derisively. 

She made no reply, but she didn't seem surprised or displeased as he might have expected. 

"Go back to your needlework. I need to show these stupid sons of whores how to fight with a spear instead of bugger each other with one," Bronn said desperately. It was an extremely rude thing for a man of his status to say to a lady of her status, and Cersei Lannister would probably have had him whipped if he'd uttered those words to her. 

But Sansa Stark wasn't the least bit fazed. "All right," she agreed. She gave him another smile. "I'm embroidering a tunic for you to wear at feasts." 

 

Sansa walked briskly to the godswood for her nightly prayer to her father's gods - and her meeting with Ser Dontos. The knight-turned-fool had assured her that there would be a ship to take her away from here the night Joffrey wed Margaery. She couldn't wait to leave behind the Lannisters, but she would miss Ser Bronn. Sansa sighed. His heart would be broken when he discovered she'd fled King's Landing. She hoped he did not become heartsick and languish and die. 

"My sweet Jonquil." Ser Dontos gave her a slobbery kiss. 

Sansa danced away from him when he tried for another. "You're sure everything is ready?"

"I'm sure. Our friend would never disappoint you."

Sansa wanted to say that their mysterious friend had already disappointed her by leaving her here long enough to be married off against her will. But Dontos Hollard and his friend were her only hope of freedom so she held her tongue. 

"You'll remember to wear the pretty hairnet I gave you, won't you, sweet Jonquil?" 

"I will," Sansa promised. She had already picked out a gown to wear to Joffrey's wedding feast that would look good with the amethyst hairnet. She didn't know why Ser Dontos was so adamant that she wear the hairnet to the feast, and truth be told, she didn't really care to know. 

Sansa stayed in the godswood as long as she dared, savoring the safety of being certain she was not being watched. She managed to get away from Ser Dontos and find a clearing between trees nearly as tall as those that stood in Winterfell's godswood. She looked up at the stars that lit the night sky, wondering what it would be like to watch these stars with a man who loved her. She imagined him wrapping his arms around her from behind and kissing her neck. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear his rough voice...

She was in good spirits when she returned to her chambers, but her heart sank when she saw the grave look on Tyrion's face.

"Sansa, I have something to tell you." 

 

Bronn never did get his embroidered tunic. Sansa seemed to have forgetten about him in the wake of the news from the Freys. Which was all to the good, really. But Bronn was a little disappointed. He really could have used a new tunic.

**Author's Note:**

> If you guessed that she's attracted to him because he reminds her of the Hound, you are correct.


End file.
